


wrap around your dreams

by lanceslot



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (because of you know literal canon), Awkward Blow Jobs, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Grinding, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, Wet Dream, and jaskier is smug about it of course, geralt is a romantic we all know this, he's also very much an idiot, yen and yen/geralt is briefly mentioned but she isn't in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanceslot/pseuds/lanceslot
Summary: “Jaskier.”“Yes, Geralt?” He walked over to sit beside his prone form, checking to see if he was, in fact, still sleeping.His only response was a moan, but not one like the typical grunts he so often received in answer to his monologuing. It was... happier… not unlike a moan of pleasure. Jaskier raised his eyebrows, infinitely amused. He settled onto his fist, elbow braced against the ground, half-lying at Geralt’s side.“Pleasant dreams?” He asked no one in particular, just to laugh to himself.But Geralt cut him short, pulling his arm out from under him, dragging him limply to his chest in a manner of seconds. “Hold still.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 286





	wrap around your dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to posting fic and this is actually the first smut I've ever written, so if you can, be sure to let me know what you think! I just finished watching Witcher, a bit late I know, and wrote this in a coping frenzy. Thanks quarantine.

It wasn’t often that Geralt fell asleep before Jaskier, but if divine inspiration had struck, who was he to deny it? And it had-- briefly. But he only managed to get a few perfect lines for his next ballad, and now he’d been stuck for hours, chewing futilely at his quill, smashing rhymes together in his mouth, all whilst losing track of time entirely. None of the words sounded quite right. He had a few perfect lines, but nothing to follow. Maybe a walk could help? Although, he doubted wandering into the woods in the middle of the night was a good idea, since Geralt was fast asleep for once.

“Jaskier.”

Or so he thought. He dropped his journal, grateful for the reprieve of his currently failing attempts at lyricism.

“Yes, Geralt?”

No response. And from what he could tell, Geralt was still laying down, eyes closed, seemingly asleep. He walked over to sit beside his prone form, checking to see if he was, in fact, still sleeping. “Geralt?”

His only response was a moan, but not one like the typical grunts he so often received in answer to his monologuing. It was... happier… not unlike a moan of pleasure. Jaskier raised his eyebrows, infinitely amused. He settled onto his fist, elbow braced against the ground, half-lying at Geralt’s side.

“Pleasant dreams?” He asked no one in particular, just to laugh to himself.

But Geralt cut him short, pulling his arm out from under him, dragging him limply to his chest in a manner of seconds. “Hold still,” he grunted.

Jaskier wiggled a bit, but the grip was like a vice. Even in his sleep the man was absurdly strong-- or maybe even more so. “Geralt?” He nudged at the arms around him. “You’re-- I mean you aren’t hurting me, but I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

Geralt made no reply, minutely shifting his arms. His breath fell hot against Jaskier’s neck. It was slow and steady. He was definitely still sleeping. 

Something pressed against the back of Jaskier’s thigh. Pressed, and rubbed. He jolted with the realization. “Oh-oh-oh. You _ really _ don’t know what you’re doing.” He craned his neck, looking desperately to the night sky. “Listen, Geralt, as much as I’d--” Geralt was continuing to grind against him, and his erection had slotted in between Jaskier’s legs, pulling him from his thoughts. “Ah--” Jaskier bit at his fist, muffling a whine. The grinding slowed, but he still had to force himself to form a coherent train of words. “As much as I’d really like to help you… mmm… And,  _ really _ ,  _ I would _ ,” his eyes went wide at the thought, “we’ve never discussed this, you know, and it-- it does feel like taking advantage.” He laughed nervously. “Even though you’re the one holding me down, you’re sleeping, so, it just… I can’t… do anything you never gave me permission to--” 

And he was on his back now, wrists under Geralt’s tight hold.

“What are you doing?” Geralt growled.

“What am I--” Jaskier blinked. “Right, you were asleep.” He frowned. “I guess you don’t quite remember what you were doing.”

Geralt did not seem amused.

“-Y-You called my name, so I came over.”

Geralt nodded and released Jaskier’s wrists, but remained sitting on his thighs, keeping him mostly immobile.

Jaskier sighed. He wasn’t an easily flustered or embarrassed person, but for some reason he felt as much now, and oddly, more so for his stoic companion’s sake. “You-- um… I think you may have been having a sex dream? ...About me?” He barely eked out. 

Geralt turned his head, giving one of his muted half-grunt, half-laughs. “Hmm. Not you, Jaskier.”

“But you said--”

“It was Yen.” Geralt uncharacteristically proffered. “But you were there. Watching.”

“Oh.” Jaskier mumbled. 

They stared at each other for a moment.

He could still feel Geralt’s erection, on top of him, like this. He bit at the inside of his lip. “Can I sit up now?”

Geralt shuffled off and lay back down, staring at the sky.

Jaskier shook his leg anxiously, still paralyzed, even if he’d been freed from the hold altogether. His mind was racing even faster than it had over that stupid song. Forget finishing that tonight. Or ever. Yeah, probably not ever.

“Out with it.” Geralt put a hand over Jaskier’s leg, silencing it, and pulling away.

“Um.” Jaskier closed his eyes. “Does that mean you saw me?” He was going to start bouncing his leg again, but quickly thought better of it. “The last time… when you…” he trailed off.

“Yes.” Geralt said. “Well, not saw. Smelled.”

“Wonderful.” Jaskier swallowed. “That’s- that's great.” Smelled him. Great. Geralt didn't seem particularly angry about it, but of course he wasn't, not if he'd just had a dream like _ that _ .

He palmed a hand against his forehead, trying not to induce a migraine over everything. He shouldn’t ask. Maybe he didn’t even need to. But he had to say something. The silence was killing him. It always did. And if he said nothing now? He could tell it would only leave Geralt even more closed off than he had been, and then where would they be? All Jaskier’s effort for nothing. All his careful questions, laid waste. He’d never been so tailored with his speech, and maybe he still wasn’t, but the two of them had made progress, hadn’t they? He had to ask, even if right now, it was only out of lust.

“Did it…,” he cocked his head, squinting at the heavens almost in prayer, “did it turn you on?” Prayer that he wouldn’t finally be decapitated for that running mouth of his.

“Don’t think it means you’ll be receiving an invitation to join next time.”

Jaskier laughed out of relief and genuine humor. “Join? Gods no. That woman may have,” he outstretched his arms in a framing gesture, “gorgeous breasts, but no.” He shuddered and waved his arms into an X. “Far too terrifying for me, thank you very much.”

At that, Geralt sat up, tugging at his boots. “So…” he trailed off, giving Jaskier a look of confusion.

Jaskier loved that look, it was hopelessly endearing, and far too innocent an expression for a man like him. And yet it wasn’t. In so many ways, Geralt did have an innocent heart, no matter how deep down he tried to hide it.

“You’re attracted to me?” He asked, eyebrow raised and still wearing that lamely adorable look.

Jaskier really tried to wrap his head around that one. He sat up to gather his thoughts. “Are-- Are you joking, Geralt?” He snorted and felt his mouth hanging open in surprise. “I… really don’t think I could’ve been more obvious about it. Besides, can’t you smell arousal or something?”

Geralt looked at the ground, like he was shy now, all of the sudden. His lip curled up against his nose. “I just thought you were always like that.”

“Wh--” Jaskier tried to protest, but only ended up frowning. “W-Well, I suppose you… may have a point.” He tilted his head in concession.

“Hmm.” Geralt laughed. Sort of.

Jaskier scooched closer to Geralt. He lowered his voice, softly inquisitive. “But it could’ve been you. I mean-- It was you. Why couldn’t it have been you?” He hoped the question made sense, that it wasn’t too prying.

"Men aren't often interested in me." It was almost a somber response.

"Well then they're blind," Jaskier mused. "Or fools."

"Fools?” He grunted. “No, Jaskier, not fools. You're a fool, and yet here you are next to me, half hard."

"I didn't think you'd noticed." Jaskier shifted his weight, oddly self-conscious having that pointed out.

"I can smell it, remember?" Geralt gave him a small grin.

Jaskier laughed. "Well… If not fools, then what?"

"Cowards."

"Right, and I'm brave." Jaskier shook his head. “Sure.” He glanced down, thinking about everything he’d seen Geralt do. Just how much that man was capable of. How could he do anything but pale in comparison?

"You are," Geralt said, taking Jaskier's face between his hands, softly, despite the decades of calluses and wear. "Incredibly so."

Jaskier met his eyes and was breathless at the tenderness he found there.

Silence settled on them again, and though it wasn’t suffocating, as Jaskier usually found it, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. There was only so long he could wait, half hard, like Geralt had pointed out.

"Not to ruin this… incredibly lovely moment we're having, Geralt… but-- please, for the love of all that is holy, please, touch me.” 

And just like that, Geralt was on him again, pinning at his wrists. He expected some kind of roughness, tearing at his shirt, his pants, something. But when Geralt removed one of his hands it was only to lift Jaskier’s head and pull him into a kiss. Feeling Geralt’s tongue slide against his sent a rush of pleasure through his spine. His mouth tasted like sweat and ale, but also good and  _ more.  _ He ran his own tongue against Geralt’s pointy canine. He’d always found his smile, that pokey tooth, so endearing, even with as little as he usually saw it. That could change now, though. He’d change that. He moved his tongue to lick at Geralt’s lip, sucking and biting at it hard enough to make a normal man sore. He broke the kiss to nuzzle against the rough stubble on his cheeks, sighing.

Geralt lifted his face by his chin. “What?”

Jaskier gave a small smile. “I just didn’t think you were the kissing first type.” He ran a finger against the lips he’d sucked red. “It was sweet.”

Geralt snarled, tossing Jaskier and flipping their positions. “Not sweet.”

Jaskier crossed his arms from where he now sat, on top of Geralt. “You can protest all you want, my friend, but you’re a romantic.” He patted at Geralt’s cheek. “I can tell.”

“Suck my cock.” Geralt bit. “How’s that for romantic?”

“Oh, very much so.” Jaskier slid down Geralt’s legs, making to untie the leather lace of his tights.

“No.” A hand grabbed at Jaskier.

“Take off your clothes first.”

Jaskier didn’t have to be told twice, tossing his doublet to the ground.

“Slowly.” Geralt stared him down, lust not too far from anger in those eyes.

He could do slow. His clothes were a bit too nice to be ruining like that, anyway. He looked at his first discarded garment in the mud and silently apologized. He fingered at the clasps of the blouse carefully, threading every hook from its eye, one by one. Geralt placed a hand on the top of his chest, still watching appreciatively. Hungrily. Jaskier set the last hook free and slipped one shoulder out, pulling at the sleeve softly with his opposite hand. He did the same with his other arm.

“Good.” Geralt said, hand smoothing circles over Jaskier’s chest hair. He grazed his thumb over his nipple, teasing until Jaskier forgot what he was supposed to be doing entirely.

“Pants, Jaskier?” 

Jaskier blinked. “Oh. Right.” He pulled down, but realized that somehow, he was still wearing his boots. He dismounted Geralt and tugged at one of them, looking back over. “Little help?” 

Geralt just crossed his arms behind his head. “No.” 

A frown crept across Jaskier’s face, more like a dramatic pout than genuine hurt. “Fine.” He was on his pants now anyway. He wriggled out of them, always too lazy to undo them properly and all the way. He knelt now at Geralt’s side, exposed to the elements, but lucky it was a warm night. “Now what?”

Geralt grabbed one of his knees, slinging it over his hips. “Now, you work.”

Jaskier huffed. “And you what, just lay there?”

“Yes.” Geralt gave him a sadistic grin.

Sadistic, and yet it almost came off as charming.

“Not sweet.” Geralt ran a finger along the bottom of Jaskier’s cock, the pressure gone as quickly as it came. “Warned you.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, whining at the loss of contact. “Okay, I get it. You’ve made your point and I- I take it back. You’re the least romantic man in the world. Will you touch me now? Properly?”

“Hmm.” Geralt looked thoughtful. “No.”

At that, Jaskier pushed Geralt’s legs apart, slinging himself over one and rubbing himself on top of it, frantically, messily. 

And Geralt was on top of him again, somehow. “Did I say you could try that?”

Jaskier moved his lips in mock dialogue, glaring petulantly. 

“Did I?” He growled.

Jaskier only laughed. “Please, I’m not afraid of you, Geralt.”

Geralt bit at his shoulder, hard. Jaskier moaned.

“That was a sweet one.” He whispered, hot into Jaskier’s ear. “If I wanted to, I could tear off your skin.  _ Don’t make me want to _ .” He punctuated each word with commanding severity and then laid back down on his crossed and expectant arms. 

“Just so you know,” Jaskier said, grabbing at the ties on Geralt’s leather, “I’m doing this because I’m incredibly turned on. Not because I’m afraid.”

Geralt smiled. 

He had to kiss that smile, so precious and so rare. It was devastatingly lovely, bright in the way he knew he could write thousands of songs about. And for. He could, but he wouldn’t. It would bother Geralt, and probably cost him some of that precious reputation he’d worked so hard to build him. He would write them in his head then, sing himself, and himself alone to sleep.

Jaskier shook off his growing frown and massaged at Geralt’s abdomen from under his pulled up chemise, working down to grab his cock. 

He looked at it, framed by the black, in admiration, awe, and a twinge of worry.

“We’re going to… have to... work up to  _ that _ .” 

Geralt grinned, all teeth. “Hmm.”

“It’s much bigger up close.” Jaskier laughed, rubbing his thumb against the tip. He grew serious again. “And much prettier.”

Geralt tilted his head, eyes hazed with pleasure as Jaskier cupped his fingers loosely around his length, smoothing up and down.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He purred. “Men really are such cowards.” He stopped his languorous strokes to run his fingers through Geralt’s hair. “Can I?”

Geralt nodded.

Jaskier removed the tie from his hair, mussing it with both hands and admiring his work.

“You’re so, so lovely.”

“Get on with it,” Geralt tried to sound menacing, but his haze betrayed him.

Jaskier smiled mischievously, taking it as a challenge, and slipped his mouth around Geralt’s cock, rubbing his tongue against the cleft at the bottom of his head.

Geralt sighed, but remained largely dispassionate, which wouldn’t do. He took Geralt to the base, and that certainly made his eyes go wide. But when Jaskier tried to give him a smug and victorious look, he could feel Geralt against the back of his throat and he spluttered helplessly, removing his lips as fast as he could. 

“Just kidding,” he rasped. “Turns out I do have a gag reflex.” He coughed. “Ooh. Ho.”

Geralt pursed his lips, sitting up to rub circles against Jaskier’s back patiently. 

“Laugh all you want, Geralt. I am a fool.”

Geralt smiled for the third time that night, and it was all so painfully worth it. “Yes, but you’re also brave.” He gave Jaskier a couple hard taps on his back. “Very brave.” Raising Jaskier’s face up, once he was done wheezing, and back to breathing normally, Geralt pulled him in for a chaste kiss. “Come here.”

Jaskier complied.

Geralt took both of their cocks in his hand, but then decided to focus more on Jaskier’s flagging erection, clearly not thrilled from being choked (at least, not in  _ that  _ way). He was gentle with his touch, but not teasing now, moving steadily.

Jaskier let a quiet breath out from his nose, watching Geralt, the way he bit his lip in focus when he moved.

Geralt used his free hand to draw the back of Jaskier’s neck in, pulling their faces to press against one another, side by side. He began to touch them both now in earnest, large hands more than big enough to do the job. He started slow, but after a minute pulled Jaskier tighter, and began to move fast, rough. This met a blissful contrast when Geralt turned their faces into a kiss and he suckled softly at Jaskier’s upper lip, running his tongue along the smooth skin inside. Rough hands, smooth kiss. Jaskier leaned back, exposing his neck as he began rutting against Geralt. 

Geralt, lovely Geralt, who marked bruises on his neck, and let him run fingers through his silky white hair. Rough hands, soft hair. 

Geralt moaned, an entirely different moan than Jaskier had ever heard from him. It was happy, but more importantly, free, unrestrained, in a way that almost everything Geralt did was not. It was wild. Jaskier let himself gasp and pant, liberated by the open gesture. Free again to run his stupid mouth. 

“You’re so pretty, Geralt.” 

He moaned again, that wild moan, almost as if in response.

“Mmm.” Jaskier sighed, then whined, letting his head fall to rest on Geralt’s shoulder. “My pretty Witcher.”

Geralt yanked him from his limp rest, something urgent flashing in his golden eyes. “Kiss me. I want you to kiss me when I--”

Jaskier crashed their lips together, too much teeth to be anything but needy, working both their mouths open and closed in a fervor. They were both close, painfully close. Geralt slipped his tongue back into Jaskier’s mouth, who sucked on it, running his own tongue along its smooth bottom.

Geralt held their faces together in his vice, almost painfully, and Jaskier felt his muscles clench against him. 

He came, with that soft but wild noise, innocent glaze across his eyes. That noise drove Jaskier absolutely mad with want, and after only a few more times fucking himself into Geralt’s hand, he came too. They remained braced against each other’s foreheads, Jaskier’s panting turning slowly but surely to laughter. 

“I was right. You  _ are _ a romantic.” He flopped his back onto the ground. “You wanted to kiss me when you--”

“Shut up.” Geralt’s tone was far too soft for threats after losing himself so completely. “Shut up, or it will never happen again.”

Jaskier pantomimed locking his lips with a key and then tossing the key away, all whilst still quietly laughing. He couldn’t help it. Besides, he hadn’t quite expected Geralt to imply that this had been any more than a one time occurrence. Romantic or not, the man was certainly reserved. Jaskier had already been expecting their adventure to end, long ago, Geralt abandoning him for his crimes against the peace and quiet of the woods.

Coming out of his reverie, he saw Geralt was looking at him, annoyed.

“Clean this up.”

“Oh. Sure.” Jaskier wiped at his nose. “Do you have a towel?” 

Something pushed at his head. Geralt.

“With your mouth, Jaskier.”

So it would be happening again, after all. Maybe sooner than he’d thought.

**Author's Note:**

> spare my poor friends from having to hear me ranting about geraskier and come talk to me on my tumblr, @anakln-skywalker


End file.
